


Feelings Are Rarely Straightforward, but Explosions Are

by hypnoshatesme



Series: Flames and Flowers [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Other, also for somebody who hates writing dialogue i sure write a lot of it..., but like...'hate' if you get what i mean, it's mostly fluff rly, it's really sappy and mushy in places, this is kind of a hate to love thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: Gerry felt fairly prepared for his new job as the archivist, but nobody told him the job came with what might be the most annoying monster he ever had to deal with not leaving him alone.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Series: Flames and Flowers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835320
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	Feelings Are Rarely Straightforward, but Explosions Are

**Author's Note:**

> so @patronsaintofdemons mentioned Archivist!Gerry under one of my posts and I got really excited and when I calmed down from all that excitement I actually got to write and got very excited all over again because this was the perfect opportunity to find a home for so many of my ideas that were kinda floating in limbo. So thanks again (...idk if I even thanked you beforehand) for the inspiration!

Gerry felt prepared for the new job. He had been surprised Elias had agreed, but considering his expression Gerry assumed it was mostly for entertainment purposes. Fine with him. If Elias was getting this bored he might get sloppy eventually, too.

He had not, however, prepared himself for the nuisance that kept appearing in his office. Gertrude had told him about Michael - or rather, vaguely referenced it, and Gerry had dug up what he could find - but she had failed to mention that it was fucking annoying and apparently specifically set on bothering the Archivist. Which now meant it was out to annoy Gerry.

It was his second week in the archive when it appeared the first time, the squeaking door pulling Gerry out of the statement he had been reading. It wasn’t so much the noise in general as it was the knowledge that his office door didn’t sound like that and that there was nobody else down here. He had refused any assistants. 

When he looked up there was a yellow door in the middle of the room. It had stopped creaking, only slightly open, fingers that really shouldn’t even be called that grabbing the edge of the door. It was all very familiar, more than one statement having described mystery doors and many-boned hands. Despite that, Gerry doubted himself for a moment, the overwhelming sense of wrongness making him consider if he was actually really seeing it or whether the statements had gotten to his head. He  _ had _ been reading them for hours on end without break today.

Gerry caught himself before his expression slipped into confusion, focussing on the hand that was certainly there, he  _ knew _ it was. “Michael.”

A head peeked out of the open door. Or Gerry presumed it was a head. It didn’t quite look the right shape at first, and he couldn’t actually see much of it with the ever moving blond curls temporarily covering up parts of it. The face underneath never looked quite the same when the curls jerked out of the way. Gerry wasn’t sure if he was imagining the glitching or if it was simply the erratically moving hair that was making it look glitchy. He decided not to think about it.

“Archivist.” it said and the voice was overlapping and right there in his ears, and everywhere, bouncing off the walls. It was disorienting.

It stepped out through the gap in the door that should not have accommodated for the mass that ended up standing in front of him to squeeze through. It looked very much inhuman as it stepped through but when it stood at it's full height its proportions were passably human. The fingers were still too long, and it seemed unsteady, as if every time you dared to blink some detail was different, making you question if you were seeing things. There was no mistake of its monstrous nature, but Gerry still found himself doing a double take. 

It seemed rather satisfied at the confusion that crossed his face for a moment. Or was it satisfaction? Gerry squinted, unsure if he had made that up. He could barely make the face out, how could he tell if it looked satisfied? There was still hair obscuring it, curling into itself and twisting, sometimes slowly, sometimes more erratic, but always making shapes hair should not. If hair should make any shapes at all. Gerry was unsure for a moment, but he was quite certain it usually didn’t turn into fractals.

Gerry didn't need to make out its face to know it was watching him. Taking him in. He could feel it, a different kind of sense of being watched, a lot less oppressive, a lot more buzzing static and fraying certainty, more doubt about whether he was being watched or if he was just losing his mind. Gerry had run into beings of the Spiral before, but this was still intense. 

He didn't like it, the feeling of being sized up, and Gerry straightened up, squaring his shoulders a bit. He tried to return the gaze but it was difficult. It seemed out of focus sometimes, merging with the background or parts disappearing into impossible shapes just for a moment. He found its eyes but they seemed to be filled with too bright shapes and impossible colours and sometimes they weren't where they were supposed to be. It was dizzying. 

Gerry tried to focus on its face as a whole instead. When it was visible, no spot seemingly melting away into nothingness, it was a rather nice face. Gerry remembered the picture he had found of the archival assistant Gertrude had sacrifice to the spiral. A pretty, round face, slightly crooked nose, nervous smile. It was the same face in front of Gerry now, without the smile - it was a grin that its mouth was pulled into, a far too wide one - and certainly no longer as inviting. Or maybe it was, but there was an underlying sense of threat that had been completely absent from the picture. 

Still pretty, though. Gerry frowned for a moment, unsure whether that had been his own thought or its doing. Could it control thought? Gerry never came across it doing so directly. Maybe it had been his own, then. He brushed it off.

The silence stretched on between them and part of Gerry wished it would do something, anything, attack or talk. 

"What do you want?," Gerry decided to ask.

Gerry could hear it consider, but he couldn’t pinpoint how. The static coming off it, settling in the room, felt thoughtful. Was it a noise or a feeling that made Gerry think it was thinking? Gerry was getting a headache from thinking about what he was thinking.

"What  _ do _ I want, Archivist?," its many-layered voice with the amused undertone that sounded like a threat was not helping the headache. Gerry was getting angry, despite knowing very well that he usually did not lose his cool this quickly. He clenched his hands into fists before opening them again, slowly, focusing on the movement. 

"Don't call me that." It still came out sounding a little too affronted for his taste.

It laughed, or at least that’s what Gerry assume that noise was supposed to be. "What should I call you?"

"Gerard." Gerry felt proud about the fact that he remembered his name without hesitating, but also slightly stupid for giving it so readily.

This time it made an actual audible considering noise, Gerry was sure. It still sounded wrong. "Archivist sounds better."

Gerry frowned. Maybe he was rather getting irritated than angry. He wasn’t exactly sure about the difference in that moment. "That’s not a name."

"Everything is a name if you think about it," the answer came without thoughtful pauses this time, but with an annoying chuckle. Gerry was getting tired of this conversation, if indeed it could be called such a thing.

“Why are you here?”

It cocked its head to the side, which looked too fluid and utterly mechanical at the same time somehow. “Does that matter?”

Gerry sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was going nowhere and he should have known better than starting a conversation with the fucking Spiral.

“Are you just going to stand there and make pointless conversation, then?” He tried, no longer bothering to hide his irritation, though it made its grin wider, which he disliked.

“You started talking.”

Gerry was confused for a moment, the conversation he was still having already a mangled mess in his memory, barely coherent - had it really been this jumbled? - and certainly without anything Gerry could clearly identify as a ‘beginning’. 

He frowned, tired of this, and decided to go back to work. It was nigh impossible with its presence in the room and made even harder by the fact that Gerry obviously had to keep an eye on it in case it did decide to do anything besides standing and staring. 

It didn’t move from its spot that first day, but it didn’t need to to make Gerry’s life harder. Sudden doubts about what he was reading, whether he forgot something at home, whether he was even  _ awake _ kept pulling him out of his work, a constant underlying confusion, that he thought was at least partly his - What did it want? Why was it there? He was fairly sure those were  _ his _ questions - constantly coming to the forefront of his mind. 

It was tiring to try to not let them get to him. Especially knowing that he was still being watched by it. He was expecting it to attack, was ready. But the only movement was the hair, the occasional twitch or glitch. It was never stagnant but it didn’t move from its spot and it didn’t say anything for the time it was there. 

When it finally went away a couple hours later, Gerry was already too tired to get a whole lot of work done. He tried, but he felt like he had somehow reach the delirious state of sleep deprivation, despite knowing full well that he hadn’t even been anywhere close to  _ tired  _ before it had arrived. He now was  _ exhausted _ and it was annoying.

*

It was just the beginning. Its visits became a regular occurance. Sometimes it would just stand around like the first time, but Gerry guessed it got bored as he started getting used to work through the lingering confusion its presence brought, so it became more proactive. It’d talk and even when Gerry ignored it - as he quickly learned to do, since engaging in conversation with it just gave him a headache - the voice would still be distracting, the laughter that seemed to accompany most of what it said, no matter how trivial, still grating, making his skin crawl. 

It would also twist the statements Gerry was reading or really just fuck with anything he was trying to work on - or drink, considering it turned his coffee into some kind of oily substance at one point - making progress even slower than it already was as Gerry kept having to wait for the text to stop being out of focus, letters curling and falling off the paper, if it even still was paper. It was a pain and a headache and Gerry was seriously losing his patience.

He tried to rid himself of it. He tried stabbing, burning, trapping it and pretty much anything he could come up with or remembered doing in the past to get rid of Fear-related beings. Nothing worked. It just dissolved around any impact, just glitched out of the flames, and no matter how tight or inconvenient the trap, that door seemed to not be bound to usual door-measurements. Which, Gerry guessed, made sense. It had been worth a try.

It was pissing him off. Not only the fact that he kept getting stuck with it constantly hanging around and making it difficult to concentrate on actual work, but it seemed to be amused by his attempts to stop it, too, grin growing wider every time - which was disconcerting, it had long stopped properly fitting on its face - and it was getting under Gerry’s skin. He very much would prefer if it would just outright try to kill him. He had other, more pressing matters to attend to than the Distortion being a nuisance.

The Spiral did not seem to be planning any new ritual - unless annoying the shit out of Gerry was somehow connected to that - but others were and Gerry did not have the time to try to get rid of it every day. If Gertrude had still been alive, he would have complained to her. She wouldn’t have cared much but this was her fucked up creation. If anyone deserved its annoying vendetta, it was her. 

At least that’s what Gerry assumed it was doing. It still didn’t answer any questions in any way that would make its motivation clear. 

Gerry eventually gave up trying to find out. And he got tired of entertaining it, so he tried his hardest to ignore it. Completely. He got pretty good at it. He had been starting to get used to its presence by now, so it wasn’t awfully difficult to go the extra step to purposefully ignore it. Michael clearly did not like it.

*

Michael had intended to kill the Archivist, obviously. It had been surprised by the man sitting at the Archivist’s desk the first time. It had known a new one would be coming. Still, it had expected something akin to the last Archivist. Instead it was met with somebody much younger that looked utterly out of place among the dusty shelves full of boxes and the old, scratchy carpet. 

Not that anyone would look like they'd fit in with this atrocious colour choices, but this one still seemed to stick out more than others. Maybe it was all that black amidst the faded browns and greens of the institute. Maybe it was the tattoos. Michael had never seen somebody declaring their allegiance quite this obviously. Which meant he wasn't oblivious. Michael had thought that's what Elias would go for. Maybe he was growing impatient.

Michael didn't like the tattoos, the way they made it feel even more Seen than the institute generally did. The way they constantly drew its gaze to the archivist's fingers. They were pretty and Michael hated them for it. The Archivist shouldn't be pretty. 

It didn't like the Archivist in general, of course, but having one that apparently was this loyal to the eye - and had pretty hands - somehow just made it worse. It was the combination of its general distaste for the Eye and its personal distaste for the Archivist. Something about it made Michael want to make his work difficult, make him suffer, rather than go straight for the kill. Maybe it could feed off his fear a bit. It would only be fair, wouldn't it?

This Archivist didn’t scare easily, but he wasn’t Gertrude. Michael noticed the small signs of discomfort on his face. Not because it was looking at it. It wasn’t. Michael absolutely did not care about the Archivist’s surprisingly beautiful features, how they were only accentuated by the dark makeup that looked just the right amount of smudged and Michael wasn’t looking. 

But it still picked up on the tension in his jaw, his shoulders, saw the barely contained confused frown, the eyes that never went too long without throwing it a glance. It felt good to watch him like this, just a small punishment for anything the Archivist had done to it. Something to maybe not stop him, but certainly make him slower in whatever it was he was doing for the Eye now. It felt satisfying.

Michael started wanting to do more, partly because all the watching was making it difficult not to look at him, partly because the Archivist was clearly starting to get used to it. Michael didn’t like that, and so it started to more actively try to disrupt the Archivist’s work. It didn’t hurt him - not yet, it told itself - but the Archivist was clearly not amused by it, which greatly amused Michael in return. When he started to try and kill it, it only became even more satisfying to nullify his efforts, watching that face tired and frustrated, angry. 

Sometimes his expression was odd, and it looked like how Michael felt when it was not looking at him, when it was not at all noticing the muscle in his broad shoulders shifting under his shirt when he would stretch to reach one of the boxes in the higher shelves. Michael knew there was strength in those arms - though the punch had ended up hurting the Archivist a lot more than itself - and that was all it ever assessed when it was not looking at them. 

That and the fact that they were scarred - burns. This Archivist still seemed just as enthusiastic about fire as the one before, so it could have been some accident - and that they were always,  _ always _ bare and part of Michael was particularly annoyed by that. It had to be on purpose, to distract it. Michael did not let itself be distracted. It didn’t even notice how the eye tattoos looked kind of good on them. Because Michael’s eyes weren’t lingering on those arms, ever.

*

Eventually, the Archivist stopped to engage with it at all. Michael disliked it. This was no fun. But it didn’t feel like killing him yet. It would be difficult to find another person to taunt like this. So Michael pretty much just continued what it was doing, feeling achieved when it managed to catch his blank mask fall for even a second. He was clearly still bothered by it. Michael was glad. This way he really had no reason to kill him. For now. It would get around to it eventually, for sure. But this was much more entertaining. 

Gerry clearly wasn’t good enough at ignoring it for it to give up its attempts at driving him up the wall. Sure, it looked disappointed - did it really? Gerry felt like he felt disappointed rather. Maybe the hair was moving a little slower. Could hair look disappointed? - and sometimes annoyed at Gerry’s lack of reaction, but it sure didn’t make it stop trying. And Gerry couldn’t deny it was still getting to him. He wasn’t sleeping much or well, which wasn’t new, but the reason was new-ish. 

He could feel the presence of the Eye much more lately, could feel it getting stronger and he just did not have the patience to deal with some entity that had chosen him as its plaything on top of trying to keep the entity that had chosen him for its avatar or whatever out of his head. It was draining and he knew Michael noticed him pressing his lips into a thin line when it, yet again, found a new way to make what he was trying to read utterly illegible. 

Gerry wanted to kick it. But after the punch that had ended in a very bloody, numbly buzzing fist he was not going to attempt that. Even though it was really tempting since apparently Michael had decided that standing really close was its new way to piss Gerry off. 

Well, it was working. Gerry hated it standing so close for the obvious reason that it made it much more difficult to actually keep an eye on it overall. Specifically on its knifehands. The sense of movement at the corner of his eye, which Gerry usually trusted, wasn’t quite useful with Michael. Michael was always moving, every part of it seemed to constantly be shifting or undulating. It put Gerry on edge. 

And he hated having its face so close and in clear view. It made it incredibly difficult to ignore how attractive it was. Part of him still hoped it was its doing, it twisting his perception or something like that. Hoped that it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the slightly crooked nose looked incredibly cute on that round, freckled face. 

At least Gerry assumed that’s what they were, sometimes they took on very odd colours and swirly patterns, and he hated that he knew that. He told himself that he did not find himself thinking about how that hair must feel - it looked so soft, how could something look so sharp at yet so soft? -, that he didn’t like at all that he had to look up to meet its eyes, still nightmarish but so very fascinating to look at. 

Gerry tried very hard to simply ignore all of that and just not look at it, which turned out to be difficult considering he did not want to let it get out of his sight. And due to the fact that he could still feel its presence, the subtle movement, the slight buzzing that, at some point, seemed to have started feeling somewhat magnetic. He really hoped  _ that _ was its doing, at least. He hoped it was somehow making him crave to lean in, to feel its touch, because otherwise Gerry was fairly sure insomnia and loneliness were making him lose it before Michael managed to. He really hoped he wasn’t  _ that _ touch-starved.

Gerry really wished it would just finally finish whatever it intended to do. He was going insane, but probably not quite in a way he was supposed to. Or maybe exactly how he was supposed to. He didn’t know. He was so tired of this shit.

*

Gerry was trying to ignore the fact that it was currently basically breathing down his neck, if it would breathe and wouldn’t be quite  _ as _ tall. It was impossible with it apparently looking through the boxes right above Gerry’s head. It was noisy. It was grating to listen to and Gerry was so fucking exhausted and he just couldn’t fucking take this anymore. He didn’t even know what he had wanted to get of the shelf by now.

He whipped around and much of his frustration made it into his voice as he spat, “ _ What _ do you want?”

Gerry felt the power in his words the moment they left his mouth, felt the focus that always came when he called on the Eye - or rather, when his concentration slipped and it took over - and it felt  _ good _ and he  _ hated _ it. He didn’t like compelling, even less when he did so unintentionally, which was starting to become a far too regular occurrence for his taste.

Gerry didn’t really get to dwell on it, though, because there was a sharp pain in his shoulder and before he could do as much as gasp his back connected painfully with the shelf, some stray files tumbling onto the floor with the impact. Gerry could already feel the bruise. 

That seemed to be the least of his worries with sharp fingers burying into his shoulder, one pressed against his throat, not quite cutting, but Gerry was sure it wouldn’t need much to do so. Gerry decided to hold still, fighting the urge to swallow as he looked up at Michael.

“ _ Don’t _ try to compel me, Archivist.”

Gerry realised then that its voice could sound so much worse than it usually did. It wasn’t a vague discomfort now, but more like needles in Gerry’s ears, and he flinched, fighting the urge to cover them because he knew it wouldn’t matter. It was inside already, seemed to reverberate in Gerry’s skull, and he felt his breathing pick up. 

It was difficult to fight the rising panic considering he was obviously screwed. It didn’t matter that its face was unintelligible that moment, was barely even a face at all and more angry shapes, Gerry could  _ feel _ that it was mad. Well, the pain in his shoulder would have probably been a dead giveaway if not. 

He wasn’t sure if he was holding any gaze since its eyes kept glitching into nothingness, flaring up brighter and much more intensely whenever they did decide to manifest. It was unpleasant to look at the utter mess of shapes and erratic motion, but the knifepoint finger pressed against his throat seemed like the more unpleasant option in that moment, so Gerry simply stared up at it and didn’t move.

Michael could still  _ feel _ it, the words pulling at it, wanting to draw an answer from it that it did not want to give, that it did not know. That it  _ will _ not give. The Archivist’s eyes were wide and now there was fear in them, clear as day, and Michael should be ecstatic. This was what it wanted, wasn't it? But all it could think of was that it didn't like that expression on his face and it could still feel the itch to speak but it  _ would not do that _ . 

It kissed him instead.

The Archivist, after a moment of shock, kissed back.

Michael pulled away, surprised. Michael was rarely  _ surprised, _ but this Archivist seemed to keep doing that. “You kissed back.”

Gerry could feel his face heat up and he wanted to look away to hide it, but he could still feel the finger against his throat. “What about it?,” he mumbled, giving up on finding a way to hide his blush. He sounded more defensive than he would have liked.

Michael’s face was closer to being a face now, and its frown looked as confusing as it looked confused. “I did not expect it.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you kissing me in the first place,” Gerry stated in a tone he hadn’t used in a long time, some sort of embarrassed defiance that made him feel like a teen again. 

“That...that’s what I do. The unexpected,” Michael was mumbling now, which sounded more like its voice was descending into high-pitched static.

Gerry thankfully could still make the words out and blinked up at it with a blank expression. “You don’t have a monopole on doing unexpected things.” 

Its eyebrows just drew further together, scrunching into accordions, and Gerry was unsure if it was aware of how silly that looked. Not that it did a whole lot to balance the threat of the fingers in his shoulder and against his throat, which still hadn’t moved. 

“Could you let me go?,” Gerry tried, disliking how it still sounded like pleading, despite him trying for a neutral tone, “I didn't want to compel you, it just...happened." 

Michael didn’t move as it stared at him as if trying to make sense of what he was saying. It was an odd expression on its face. It looked somewhat painful.

"I'm sorry," it came out as a whisper but Gerry was surprised at how true those words were. He felt ashamed for slipping up. It didn’t matter if it was inhuman, he didn’t like to force it to speak. It just felt  _ wrong _ , and Gerry didn’t know if it was the general wrongness he felt about compelling or if it was something more specific, something to do with Michael itself.

Michael was struck by how genuinely upset the Archivist sounded. It watched his face for a moment, unsure of what it expected to find there that might betray the tone. But there was nothing that would suggest he wasn’t being honest, just a lot of repressed pain and Michael carefully removed its fingers from his shoulder. 

He hissed as it did, hand coming to touch it as soon as Michael stepped back. It made him flinch, but if the blood on Michael’s fingers was anything to go by it shouldn’t be too deep. Gerry sighed, carefully detaching himself from the shelf and making his way to the first aid kit. 

Michael watched him, uncertain about what to do, and confused about what the sight of the bloodied shoulder was making it feel. It didn’t like it. It rather would have not done it. This didn’t feel right. Michael was losing its grip on itself. But this time not out of anger, anger was easy, always there anyways. This was different and Michael did not know what to do with it. It could still feel his lips against its own when it finally made a door and stepped through it, before it fell apart.

*

Michael didn’t come back the next day, or the day after. Gerry should have been glad. He could finally work in peace without its distraction. In theory. Factually, his brain was still buzzing with what had happened. Apparently it didn’t need to be physically present to make it difficult to focus. But Gerry simply had not expected the kiss and he was unsure what to make of it. What to make of the fact that he kissed back pretty much right away. Maybe he really  _ was _ that desperate. 

It certainly seemed like it because Gerry found himself  _ missing _ it. His office seemed too empty, a heavy quiet making it difficult to focus. The paranoia was much more intense now, the presence of the Eye a lot more obvious without the distortion Michael usually provided, making it difficult to focus, making him too aware that he needed to find a way to keep it out. 

Gerry knew that it wasn't only the practical reasons. He missed its company simply for the reason that...maybe he had liked it. It took some getting used to, yes, and it could get really annoying, but had it been that bad? Probably not if Gerry found himself wishing it were back. And he just couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Gerry sighed, rubbing his face before attempting to read the paragraph he’d been trying to get through for an hour now again.

*

It did come back on the fourth day, but something seemed off. Michael seemed somewhat more...muted when it stepped out of the door. Or maybe Gerry simply remembered it brighter. It did never look quite as he remembered in the first place. Its expression was as unreadable as ever, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling something was different about it as it came to a stop in front of his desk. 

There was a somewhat sad aftertaste to its buzzing static. Gerry wasn’t exactly sure if he had tasted the static before or how exactly he knew how ‘sad’ tasted like, but he was certain that’s what it was. Certainty when it came to Michael was definitely new. He was feeling some weird combination of finally having a glimmer of understanding, but being even more puzzled by it than before he had it.

Their silent staring contest was interrupted when Michael suddenly held out its hand. Gerry blinked in confusion at the flowers wrapped in that hand, now right in front of his face. He looked up at Michael again, puzzled. It seemed to be eagerly anticipating some kind of reaction, but Gerry wasn’t exactly sure what. 

“For you.” Michael managed to sound both insistent and unsure. “Is...your shoulder better?”

Gerry raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Is this...an apology?”

Michael simply brought its hand closer - Gerry was fairly sure its arm hadn’t been that long a moment before - expression everchanging, but never readable. Gerry finally decided to take the flowers. He half-expected pain when his hand brushed Michael’s fingers, but they apparently weren’t as sharp as they looked in that moment. They felt soft, even, and Gerry was temporarily distracted by the juxtaposition, before he remembered to look at it again.

Gerry ran a hand through his hair, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. What was the appropriate reaction to this? “Uh...thanks? I-the shoulder’s fine. It wasn’t...too bad,” he mumbled, blushing a little as he stumbled over his own words. He wasn’t really used to this kind of question outside of a hospital context.

Michael watched him for another moment, before nodding. Gerry didn’t feel like he could take more awkward staring, so he got up to get something to put the flowers in. He was half-expecting Michael to be gone by the time he got back, but it was still standing in the same spot, still watching him as he sat back down behind his desk, now decorated with the bouquet. Gerry was unsure whether he should say something or just go back to work. 

Now they were just looking silently at each other again. He gave up trying to come up with something and decided to go back to what he had been reading.

*

Things went back to normal after that first rather awkward day. More or less. Michael seemed to be somewhat distracted, sometimes. Gerry would caught it looking at him, not in the unnerving way that made his skin crawl, but in a...different way. He had thought it his imagination when he had noticed before how occasionally Michael seemed to stop staring at him with its usual intention to confuse him, but more just for staring purposes, eyes lingering or following him, seemingly unaware. 

It was starting to look like Gerry might not have imagined it after all. Or he was imagining it but now more strongly. Or rather, more obviously. Maybe it was his own wishful thinking because Gerry certainly wouldn’t  _ mind _ it looking at him in that way. He couldn’t really deny it after how glad he felt when it started coming back on a regular basis. As much as he tried to excuse the relief he felt with ‘as long as it’s here, it’s not out killing people’ Gerry knew that that wasn’t it. Not wholly, at least. He probably wouldn’t still find himself thinking of their kiss if that were the case. He wouldn’t catch himself getting distracted looking at it if that were the case. 

This wasn’t good. The fact that he was well aware that it did kill when it wasn’t around should have definitely made him stop wondering about kissing it without most of his brain being occupied with the pain in his shoulder. But it didn’t. And Gerry knew he was quite a bit more desensitised to murder than most, but it wasn’t like he was  _ okay _ with it. But apparently it didn’t put him off completely, which was more worrying than the fact that he somehow found himself yearning for a monster of insanity in the first place. 

Even for Gerry’s standards, this whole situation was ridiculous. And he really had more than enough on his plate already, he shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about this, too. But he couldn’t help himself. Michael was there and even when it wasn’t Gerry’s mind somehow found its way to thinking about it. He didn’t know what to do about it. He really had other things to do.

Michael noticed the Archivist seeming more stressed. Michael wasn’t trying as much to make work difficult for him anymore, so it didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t like it. While it usually enjoyed people looking all stressed out, it didn’t in this case. And it was fairly sure that it wasn’t because it wasn’t the reason for him to look like that. Michael wasn’t even sure if it wasn’t the reason. Michael wasn’t sure of many things anymore.

Michael didn’t think it wanted to kill the Archivist. It wanted to kiss him. And it didn’t know if it had been wanting to do that before already. Or if that had only started when it did. But why had it even kissed him in the first place, then? Maybe Michael hadn’t wanted to kill him at all. Maybe it had wanted to kiss him all along. The words were awfully similar, they might have gotten confused somehow. 

Michael wondered if it was the same for the Archivist. He hadn’t tried to kill it in a long time, so it could be. He had kissed back, so Michael assumed he wasn’t  _ opposed _ to it. But it didn’t know. Knowing wasn’t really Michael’s thing, and for the first time it felt something like distaste about that. It wanted to find out, but Michael wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t even sure what exactly it wanted to find out. Or if it really wanted to find out anything. What would it do if it was wrong and the Archivist didn’t want to kiss it? It didn’t know. 

Sometimes he was looking at it like he might. Michael quite liked that look on his face. It looked better than the stressed frown. It made Michael feel in a way it couldn’t really describe. Pink, maybe. Or light. Like something round and yielding. But in a good way. At least it believed it was in a good way. Maybe it was more of a melting feeling? Did Michael like to melt? It wasn’t entirely sure.

*

It was Gerry who ended up caving in and addressing the whole situation. Not particularly because he wanted to, but because it was really taking up too much of his time mulling over it and Michael kept looking at him with that odd expression and Gerry knew he kept looking at it wistfully, too, when he spaced out and this was just getting too much.

“Michael?” Gerry hadn’t actually thought about what to say after he got its attention. He just knew he’d rather not formulate a question. In his distracted state of late, he couldn’t really trust himself with questions. Michael looked at him expectantly, which wasn’t making thinking any easier. Gerry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’ve been...looking at me funny. Since...well, since I compelled you, I guess.”

Michael blushed, or at least that's how Gerry interpreted its face turning highlighter pink. 

Michael hadn't been sure if Gerry had noticed. It didn't know how it felt knowing he had. "So have you. At me," it decided to say.

It was Gerry's turn to blush, though his face took on a less obvious shade. "Yeah, well...I- look, I don't know what you want but this is getting a lot."

Michael pursed its lips. "I might want to kiss you again."

Gerry didn't know what to say for a moment. It didn't necessarily come as a surprise, but it was still a shock. Or maybe what shocked him was his own urge to just pull it close and kiss it.

He didn't do it. "I'd rather not."

"Oh." Michael frowned. "You didn't like it?"

"I...did. I'm just…the thought that you go around killing people doesn't make me eager to repeat that kiss." Though it apparently also did not  _ not _ make him eager to do so.

Now Michael was more confused than disappointed. "I couldn't kiss you if I killed you."

Gerry shook his head. "No, I'm not afraid for myself.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It's a general thing."

"The Archivist before you didn't mind murder."

"I'm not the Archivist before me.” Gerry was scowling now. “I mind it very much."

Michael didn’t understand the problem, really. But what he seemed to be saying was there there was something specific making him not want to kiss it again. "Would you kiss me otherwise?"

"I might have considered it,” Gerry admitted, a barely audible mumble. He wasn’t sure if his hair was doing much to cover his blush.

Michael watched him for another moment, before making a door and leaving.

*

Gerry half expected - and dreaded - Michael to not come back. Hoped for it even. Maybe not seeing it would stop him from thinking about it. Maybe it would stop his thoughts from wandering to it at night when he was tired and lonely and should be sleeping instead of thinking about being held by arms that were an anatomical nightmare. 

It did come back. Nothing really changed, except that it apparently had decided to give up on actually annoying Gerry and instead just stood or sat around. Sometimes, they’d talk about nothing in particular - or rather, the topic would dissolve into confusing twists and turns throughout the conversation - and Gerry didn’t hate it. It helped with focus, which was something he didn’t think he would ever say about the Distortion, but there was a lot going on he didn’t think possible when it came to Michael. Which, he guessed, should be quite to its liking.

The grasp of the Eye was getting stronger and Gerry wasn’t sure if talking to it simply distracted him from that or if it actually made it more difficult for the Eye to use him. He didn’t really care which one it was, he simply appreciated it. Thinking clearly was becoming nigh impossible in the Archive with the constant heavy presence, the Knowledge that it was there. He didn't fare much better at home. And he didn't like that at all.

There were missing people reports appearing on his desk in the following weeks, too. None had to do with anything he was working on, and Gerry was fairly sure it wasn’t anyone at the Institute leaving them there. Nobody really came down to the Archive. 

A couple days after the report first appeared - or sometimes weeks - a follow-up would be on his desk, declaring that the previously missing person had been found. The people were usually in various stages of confusion or mentally unstable, but always fine.

Gerry didn’t need the Eye to connect the dots - at least he hoped so, sometimes he didn’t even feel it anymore when it did something. Which was even scarier than just the fact that he did feel its influence getting stronger. Gerry didn’t really want to think of what that entailed. So instead, he looked up from the latest report at Michael, who was messing with the boxes full of statement Gerry had sorted through the days before. 

"These are from you.” He watched as Michael turned around at those words.

It watched him for a moment, before it leaned its head to the side in an unnecessarily jerky motion that made it blur a bit in the process. "You said it bothered you. That I kill them,” it said in the closest Gerry ever heard it sounding to matter-of-factly. Like that answer explained everything.

He raised an eyebrow. "So you stopped?”

It frowned. "You saw for yourself."

Gerry waited for it to say anything else, to add to that. It didn’t. One of its brows became translucent for a moment, but it didn’t seem to mean anything. Or if it did, Gerry could not read it.

"Why would you do that?," he asked, carefully drawing out the question, concentrating on making it a question, not an accidental order. Sometimes this strategy worked. This time it did, thankfully.

It shrugged, which was somehow more and less than what Gerry had expected for an answer. He shook his head. "I don't believe you. This doesn't mean you aren't eating different people."

It shrugged again and it looked really odd with its head angled like that. "I guess."

"My question is why." That was, indeed, his question. There were so many things he could put after that word, but by this point he just summed it up with  _ why _ .

Michael looked at him intently. "It's in my nature to trick and deceive."

Gerry wasn’t sure which of the  _ whys _ that was answering. Or if it even was answering any. "Are you really not eating anyone?"

Michael looked extremely uncomfortable and for a moment Gerry was worried he had missed the question coming out as a compelling one. But then he remembered that that was how it looked when it tried to answer questions in a more straightforward way. It was a rarity and Gerry was glad about that, because he really disliked seeing it like this.

The answer was more of a hiss than a word, really, falling from its lips much heavier than usual words. “Yes.”

"But why?" Gerry pressed on, despite not wanting to torture it any further. But he did really want to know.

Michael was starting to get frustrated with the conversation, not only because it didn’t want to give answers, but also because it hadn’t expected an interrogation. It thought Gerry might be glad. "Is it wrong?,” it asked.

Gerry was taken aback by how defensive it sounded. "Not killing? No. I just...well, I’m just trying to understand.” 

It was, of course, stupid to try and understand the Spiral, but Gerry couldn’t help it. The measures it was taking seemed a little desperate to him. Maybe cute, in a way. It was more effort than Gerry was used to people putting into an acquaintance with him. It was odd, not necessarily in a bad way. But it didn’t change the fact that he kept wondering why it was even going so far. Was it lonely? Did monsters get lonely? 

Gerry ran a hand through his hair. He didn't have time for this. He needed to think. Not about Michael. But also about Michael. Without the Eye’s heavy presence. He let out a frustrated sigh, burying his face in his hand.

Michael watched him, confused about what was happening. "Did I upset you?"

Gerry shook his head. “No. I can’t focus. I need to think.”

It didn’t know what that meant. “Should I leave?”

Gerry sighed. “It’s not you. Well...not all of it. It’s this place. The Eye.”

"It can't see in the hallways." Gerry  _ felt  _ the door appear next to his desk, somehow.

He looked up, disbelieving. “You don’t think I’m actually going to go in there.”

Michael shrugged. The Archivist was making this unnecessarily difficult. “Then don’t.”

It wasn’t that Gerry wasn’t curious about the hallways. How could he not be after reading about it so much and having Michael come and go as it pleased? But he knew how that usually went. And Michael’s words didn’t really mean anything, did they? It was all about lies, the unexpected. Though if Gerry expected lies, than truths would be the unexpected, he guessed.

He looked at it, suspicious. Not that Michael betrayed any sign as to its trustworthiness. It was just looking back at him with what went for a blank expression on its face. On what went for a face. It was still a really nice face. 

Gerry got up with another frustrated sigh. He knew he could go into the tunnels to think, but Gerry had been avoiding that. He was fairly sure he’d need to go there soon enough and there was no need of alerting anyone to that beforehand. He looked at Michael again.

It blinked at him. “You could leave the door open.” Michael wasn’t sure if that was helpful or, indeed, if it was even trying to be helpful. But people usually got nervous when the door closed and disappeared, and Gerry was looking like he might be considering the offer. He sure looked like he could do with a break.

“That doesn’t really mean anything, does it.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change. It simply looked at him with curiosity amidst the usual chaos on its face, silently leaving it to Gerry to do whatever. Gerry wondered if this was how it got people to open the door usually. He had always imagined more lying or taunting. It was just looking. 

Gerry walked towards the door, more intrigued to find out what it might do than anything else. He felt like he was walking straight into a trap, but Gerry felt like that most of the time. He knew he was probably doing something stupid. But in his current state he wouldn’t actually be able to get much done, and the other option would be to stop fighting the Watcher. He wasn’t too sure whether that or opening the door sounded more stupid, but he glanced back at Michael, who hadn’t moved from its spot, before turning the doorknob and entering the hallway.

Gerry had expected to feel some big difference between the Institute and the hallways, but he didn’t. It looked and felt eerily normal. If it weren’t for the different interior design, he could have been tricked into believing he’d just walked into one of the Institute’s hallways. Except for the lingering sense of doubt, the slight changes in the carpet Gerry believed to see out of the corner of his eye but couldn’t pin down when he looked at it, because he no longer was sure he remembered the original colour correctly. It was a lot stronger here then when Michael was actively trying to confuse him in his office. It was all-encompassing, the whole space feeling like it was shifting without really looking like it was. Gerry looked at the door he had closed behind him and it was still there, and still as yellow, and he decided to focus on it instead. 

The Eye was definitely not present, which was such an odd feeling for him by now. Like a physical weight had been lifted off him and he felt like he could breathe again, even if the air he breathed in didn’t quite feel right. He didn’t care, because at least he didn’t feel the Eye trying to get into his head further. He could think. 

He leaned against one of the walls, right next to the door he was still looking at. He still knew where he was and that he shouldn’t be here, and certainly not get  _ comfortable _ in the hallway. Though that did seem unlikely with how slightly wrong it felt, like a frame oh-so-slightly crooked, one you look at and feel like something isn’t right but you cannot really put your finger on what it is. 

It was, currently, preferable to the constant struggle of not giving into the call to Know when all Gerry ever wanted was to find answers. When he was starting to get frustrated at how slow things were moving with him working by himself and the temptation to give in and See was sometimes difficult to reject. 

The door didn’t open, but Michael still manifested in front of him, against the opposite wall that Gerry thought had had a mirror hanging there a moment ago, but now it was empty. Or Michael was covering completely. It shouldn’t be, logically, but Gerry reminded himself that logic wasn’t what he should be relying on now.

Michael still looked very out of place in the eerily normal hallway, but it  _ felt _ right. Like it belonged. Michael probably wouldn’t like to hear that. It was looking at him with the same expression from before. It was still strange when it was this silent. The silence was different from how it used to be in the beginning, where it was all menace and threat. Gerry wasn’t even sure how this new silence felt, he realised. He hadn’t been able to think about it enough to name it.

"Why are you doing this?" Gerry knew he was unlikely to get an answer, but there was something freeing about being able to ask without being afraid the Eye might end up making it an order. 

As expected, the answer was useless, "I don't know." It shrugged, more as an afterthought, “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” He sighed.

Michael crossed its arms and Gerry didn’t even want to think about how it managed that with those hands. “If you didn’t want the Eye to take you, you should have taken a different job.”

“The Eye had me long before I started here.” Gerry looked at the ceiling - had it been that high when he stepped inside? - with a wry smile. “I’m pretty sure that was one of the reasons that Elias agreed to it.”

Michael furrowed its brows. It couldn’t figure him out. “You still seem surprisingly...upset.”

Gerry looked back at it, considering. There were many good reasons why Gerry had refused any assistants and he was starting to really crave talking about it. He knew he shouldn’t. He could hear Gertrude scolding him for even considering it. But then again, she would have taken issue with his actions a long time ago by now. Gerry was getting so very tired with being careful.

"I’m planning to burn this down. The Institute. I’m going to destroy it.”

Michael hadn’t expected that. He knew the last Archivist had been working on doing that, but it had not been aware the new one was going to try again. As far as Michael was aware, it probably wasn’t a good idea. The Archivist and the Institute were tied together.

“It won’t be...pleasant,” it decided to state. 

“Yes, I assume as much. That...that’s why I wanted a break from it. I can’t...sometimes, I can’t keep it out. It’s always pushing from all sides and sometimes…” He ran a hand through his hair, “I just need a break. To think.”

The silence that settled wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but Michael disliked it. Though that might be the new information it had now. It didn’t know what might happen to the Archivist if the Institute is destroyed, but it wouldn’t be surprised if it meant death. And Michael had just recently - it thought, at least, that it had not been too long ago - come to the conclusion that it did not want the Archivist dead. It was upset.

“Can I kiss you?” Michael wanted to rather continue the earlier conversation than the one they were having.

Gerry took a moment to snap out of his own thoughts and understand the question. He frowned, crossing his arms. “Did you really stop eating people to get a kiss from me?”

“You say that like there might be a better reason.” It sounded genuinely interested what that hypothetical better reason might be. 

Gerry bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. “I at least have never been told I kiss so good it makes monsters want to stop killing.” He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

Michael’s eyebrows shot - or teleported, rather - up, “I didn’t say that.”

Gerry’s grin grew wider, “You didn’t not say it.”

Michael’s face pulled into something that might be a pout. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Neither did you answer mine.”

Michael seemed to think for a moment, before saying, “I can feed off them longer when I let them escape. When they die, the End gets them and the delicious fear is gone. Like this, it lingers with them.”

Gerry raised both eyebrows, “And you never thought about that before?”

Michael shrugged. “It was an enlightening kiss.”

“Wonder what the next one might reveal,” Gerry mumbled, a grin tugging at his lips again.

It cocked its head to the side, which might have looked cute with the questioning expression, were it not for the fact that the angle looked quite deadly for a human. Then again, Michael was, of course, not human. 

It still looked kind of cute, actually. Gerry nodded. “You can come and find out.”

Michael didn’t need to be told twice. Gerry didn’t see it approach, but it was suddenly there, lips pressed against his, and this time Gerry didn’t wait to return it, arms coming up to wrap around Michael’s neck. It was an awkward angle, at first, or maybe it was Michael in general simply not being right. Michael probably noticed it, too, because Gerry felt it change, shift into something less tall and pointy, and it felt strange from up close. Not that it didn’t look strange when it did that before, but Gerry usually only heard the shift in the static that always seemed to accompany it. Feeling it was something else entirely, the movement utterly wrong and Gerry didn’t know if he was imagining the slight cracking noises, but it was overall so distracting - maybe even disturbing - he forgot the kiss.

Michael pulled away, not too far. “Gerard?” Michael still didn’t think the name tasted quite right. “Do you want to stop?”

It had stopped its rearranging and Gerry could finally focus on it again. He shook his head. “No. That was just...a lot.” Gerry tentatively spread his fingers out on the nape of its neck. Nothing moved and he smiled up at it. “You can call me Gerry.”

“Gerry.” That did sound better. “It’s easier to figure it out this way.” 

Gerry wasn’t exactly sure what it had figured out, but his arms certainly felt more comfortable around its neck now, so he guessed it had worked. He only nodded, putting one hand at the back of its head and pulling it back into the kiss. Michael’s hair tangled in his fingers and it felt strange, too soft and too sharp at the same time, but Gerry enjoyed the feeling of it against his hand as it returned the kiss, lips still not quite right, but  _ good _ moving against his.

Gerry had tasted mostly static during their brief kisses before, but that wasn’t the case at all this time. Though Gerry couldn’t tell what it tasted of. It was changing, only ever staying the same for a fleeting moment, and it was wrong. Every single thing Gerry tasted was familiar, somewhat, at the tip of his tongue, except it was wrong and it made it impossible to name it, and Gerry was getting frustrated. 

He pulled it closer, pushed his tongue into its mouth, chasing the taste he was sure he had been close to pin down that had already changed twice in the time it took Michael to slid its tongue against his and Gerry forgot what it had been that frustrated him in the first place, forgot what it had been that put him in this situation, pressed against the wall of the Spiral’s hallway, dizzy - maybe the kiss was going on for longer than his lungs agreed with, maybe it was the hallway, maybe it was Michael pressed against him, all sharp edges that didn’t cut - in the first place and it didn’t matter because Michael’s heavy hands felt good on his shoulders - when had Gerry last been touched? Been held? - and Gerry leaned into it, gasped against its lips when its finger was suddenly tracing Gerry’s neck while Gerry could still clearly feel the weight of its hand on his shoulder. It started kissing a trail along his jaw, to his ear. It lingered, gently nibbling the skin between Gerry’s piercings, making his breath hitch as its hands wandered down his chest.

He pressed it closer, dragged his nails down its back gently and it hummed against his neck, or maybe it was a purr, Gerry couldn’t be too sure, but he  _ felt _ it and he’d like to feel more of it. He remembered, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he still had work to do, that the door to his office was still there - or at least he assumed it still went there.

Michael felt him look at the door and pulled away, mumbling, "Do you want to go back?" 

Gerry looked at it, surprised. Part of him wanted to say yes and see if Michael would actually let him go back. But he also really didn’t want to. 

"No,” he said, hand wandering further down Michael’s back. “Would you mind taking this somewhere else, though?" He was getting tired of standing.

Michael’s fingers clenched in Gerry’s shirt for a moment as it let out some form of a sigh. It didn’t sound like it at all, but Gerry didn’t have any better word to describe it. He looked up, meeting Michael’s eyes, who seemed a lot more focused than they usually were.

Michael pulled him away from the wall, then, nodding towards it. "Is this okay?"

Gerry looked back over his shoulder and there was a door in the wall he had just been leaning against, open into what looked very much like his bedroom. He froze for a moment, unable to decide how he felt about the fact that Michael apparently knew where he lived. He guessed it wasn’t that hard for it to figure that out, and sure, it was convenient right now, but there were still alarm bells going off in his head. They always did when one of the Fears decided to hunt down his living space.

He frowned, “I’m not sure what I think about the fact that you know where I live.”

“I know some things.” It shrugged.

Gerry sighed, a grin tugging at his lips. “You sure do,” he mumbled, before taking Michael’s hand and pulling it through the door. 

If it already knew where he lived anyways, there was really no reason to not bring it inside.

*

Gerry woke up with his head still resting on Michael's chest, its fingers dancing across his back, and he wondered if it had done that all night. He certainly had fallen asleep to it. Well, as certainly as anything about Michael ever got. He blinked sleepily, looking up to be met with Michael's grinning face. Maybe it was more of a smile, softer than the usual grin. It looked nice.

"You're awake." It mumbled, fingers tracing the back of Gerry’s neck.

"You're still here.” Gerry managed to sound surprised and sleepy at the same time. He wasn’t used to people staying. Not that he ever stayed.

Michael sounded amused at his obvious confusion. Its fingers ran down his arm, "Why wouldn't I?"

Gerry looked a little uncertain, "I just...didn't expect it? Didn’t you...uh...get what you want?" It had definitely gotten the requested kiss. He felt the heat rise to his face.

It pondered for a moment. "Did I?" it pressed its lips to Gerry’s forehead and wrapped its other arm around Gerrys waist, pulling him up so his head was laying next to it on the pillow.

Michael kissed a trail down Gerry’s nose, enjoying the small confused frown smoothing under its lips. Gerry let out a small, content sigh, eyes fluttering close and Michael decided to press its lips to his eyelids, gently, lingering, as it ran a hand over Gerry’s hair. The long lashes tickled its face, which was a lovely feeling. It was smiling as it pulled away.

Gerry was looking at it with a surprised expression that looked quite adorable, and Michael gently ran its knuckles over the side of his face, enjoying the warmth of his red cheek. “I’m not opposed to this.” 

Gerry was at a loss of words as he stared at it, or maybe he was too flustered to function, he didn’t know. But Michael simply kept smiling at him, expression unreadable, finger tracing the curve of his nose.

“I...don’t mind it, either,” he decided to mumble because the silence was kind of awkward and he felt like he should say  _ something. _ He really hoped he couldn't turn any redder in the face.

It beamed at him in response and Gerry closed in, pressing their lips together, because he didn’t know what more to say, but he felt like he should do something to try and express what he was feeling. Not that he really knew what that was, but his heart skipped a beat when it returned the kiss tenderly, its hand moving down Gerry’s arm to his hand. It laced their fingers together and Gerry squeezed its hand. 

He really didn’t mind this.

*

They didn’t really further define what  _ this _ was. Michael stopped bothering Gerry at work for good. It would still popp in occasionally, though Gerry was convinced that was more of a reminder for him to stop working. It never said so, and it enjoyed keeping him company in his office, even when Gerry was too busy to talk. It would settle with silently playing with his hair. Or not quite silently, sometimes it would hum and Gerry found it strangely comforting. It couldn’t be called anything close to music, and objectively the distorted tune was unpleasant on the ears, but Gerry liked it. 

He couldn’t remember anyone ever singing to him before. Or rather, in his presence. It felt nice. And it did make him reconsider working longer. He’d much rather curl up with it at home, run his hand through its hair, too, kiss its face. It was strange to have a reason to look forward to going home that wasn't simply the fact that the Eye didn't feel as present there. Gerry wondered if this was what home was supposed to feel like.

Michael seemed to prefer being in Gerry’s apartment, too. It was delighted whenever Gerry did finally decide to call it a day. And sometimes, when it got too impatient waiting, its fingers would start brushing against Gerry’s neck, not the fleeting touch that sometimes accompanied it playing with his hair, but more deliberate, lingering. It was definitely more difficult to focus with the gentle scratch of Michael’s fingers tracing the collar of his shirt, drawing nonsensical patterns on exposed skin, following the line of Gerry’s neck, tracing the shells of his ears. 

Gerry knew he wouldn’t get anything else done by the time it started doing that, turning Gerry into shivers and gooseflesh and barely-contained sighs, but Gerry sometimes still tried. He wasn’t exactly sure how much it was genuinely wanting to continue working, and how much it was him enjoying the small, frustrated noise that Michael would make after a while. 

Or maybe it was what followed the noise, which was Michael starting to kiss all the places it had previously been caressing. Gerry usually gave up for good by that point, craning his neck more out of reflex as he knew that Michael did not struggle to access wherever it wanted to kiss. Sometimes Gerry would finally get up and get ready to leave - which probably would be a lot quicker if it weren’t for the stolen kisses as he cleaned up his desk - and Michael would make its door or walk with him to the station when Gerry felt like going home the conventional way.

Sometimes Gerry was too caught up enjoying the gentle touches and tender kisses and Michael would mumble something along the lines of ‘let’s go home’ against his ear, and Gerry couldn’t tell what made his heart skip a beat. If it was having Michael’s voice so strangely focused, directly in his ear but nowhere else, not coming from all around him at the same time, as it usually did; or if it was the ease with which Michael had started to refer to Gerry’s apartment as ‘home’.

*

Michael didn’t exactly live with him. Michael didn’t exactly live at all. It still started spending a lot of time in his apartment. It would usually appear when Gerry was home, late at night or on weekends. Michael seemed less tight-strung in Gerry’s kitchen than in the Institute and Gerry wondered if he was just projecting or imagining it. Then again, Michael must feel the Eye’s presence at the Institute, too, right? Gerry never thought about it before.

“Michael?,” Gerry said from where he was doing dishes. He could feel it beside him, fingers twisting in Gerry’s hair absentmindedly. It was probably changing the furniture again.

Gerry always felt it more than any other sense when Michael’s attention settled on him. It wasn’t the heavy sense of being watched he was so used to, but rather the tingling excitement of being seen. It still hummed to indicate it was listening. Maybe it didn’t know Gerry could tell. Not that it mattered. The noise was cute.

“You don’t like being in the Institute, do you?” Gerry craned his neck, trying to catch a glance of its face. It was more of a habit, Gerry still couldn’t read its expressions. But he did still like looking at its face.

Michael simply shook its head with a wide grin. Gerry was getting better at guessing what message it was trying to send, despite it always looking like it meant the opposite of what it was saying, or saying something utterly at odds with what it was expressing. It was a gamble, sometimes, but they managed.

“Then why do you keep going there? Being there?” Gerry knew it had been doing so even before he started working there. Michael had shown a knowledge of the underground tunnels that did not come without exploration just a week prior.

“I could ask you the same.” It grinned, less wide, more amused. 

Gerry rolled his eyes, but he didn’t try to repress the grin spreading on his face. “I work there.”

Michael shrugged, “I used to work there, too.”

Gerry raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to tell me you miss working there?”

Michael laughed, shaking its head, its curls bouncing with the motion. It looked at Gerry with what he had come to understand its expression of consideration, one that made it unto its face when it was trying to derail a conversation. Or maybe it wasn’t so much trying, but it couldn’t help itself. Gerry wasn’t sure. It brushed some strands of hair that came loose from Gerry’s ponytail behind his ear.

“There’s much more pretty to look at now than when I worked there,” it practically purred it, Gerry feeling the words before heard them, and he felt himself blush at the tone before he even understood the words. 

When the words did register, he laughed, and shook his head. He stood on his tiptoes to kiss it for that stupid comment, which usually worked, and should have worked, Gerry had seen its face right there and he wasn’t bad at guessing distance. Still he ended up being met with a whole lot of nothing where its face absolutely should have been. Gerry drew his eyebrows together in confusion. Its face  _ was _ there. He tried again, keeping his eyes open this time, but again, it was just a tad bit taller than it it should be, than it looked.

Gerry met its eyes. "You're doing this on purpose."

Its expression was smug among many other things, but Gerry still felt the self-satisfaction most strongly when it said, "You're cute when you're trying to reach me."

Gerry laughed, “Idiot.” 

He snipped some of the dishwater into Michael’s face, expecting it to just dissolve around it. It didn’t, giggling instead when the water hit its face before bending down and pressing their lips together, wrapping its arms around Gerry’s waist. Gerry grinned into the kiss, putting his arms around Michael’s neck, pulling it closer. 

It was Gerry who broke the kiss after a moment, mumbling, “Are you staying the night?” 

He wrapped one of its curls around his finger - or tried. Usually its hair was faster at wrapping itself around his fingers than he was - and brushed his lips against the coiled strand.

Michael chuckled, “Hm, I don’t know. You just sprinkled me with dishwater.”

Gerry laughed and let its hair go. “You better step away or more might come.”

Michael chuckled and planted a kiss on his hair before stepping away. “See you.”

“Alright, see you.” Gerry watched smiling as it disappeared in its door.

*

Michael sometimes stayed the night, sometimes it didn’t. Some rare times Gerry went to sleep pointedly Michael-free to wake up to it wrapped around him - sometimes seemingly literally, long limbs enveloping his curled up frame - face inches from his own with ever-changing eyes staring right into his. Sometimes he got spooked. And he felt like Michael quite enjoyed that, though Gerry doubted that had been the reason for its strangely timed visit. 

“Why...are you here?” Gerry had asked the first time it happened, voice still rough with sleep despite the fright. 

His mind was still hazy, and he was trying to figure out if maybe he misremembered going to bed alone last night. Sometimes things got a little messed up when it related to Michael. But Gerry had been so sure he had been alone. He remembered wishing he weren’t that night specifically. And being glad he was at the same time. 

Michael smoothed down Gerry’s sleep-mussed hair, and it felt like an apology for scaring him, somehow. “I confused time. I thought it was today already.” It drew its eyebrows together. “I mean, it was. But very early,” It added, pressing their noses together, “I wanted to see you.”

Gerry frowned, “So you just decided to stay and jumpscare me in the morning?”

It hesitated for a moment, which was rare. It raked its fingers through his hair as it mumbled, “You were having a bad dream but I couldn’t wake you...I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Gerry froze and blushed at that, feeling incredibly exposed. He didn’t panic, to his own surprise. “Oh...I-thank you.”

Michael seemed relieved. It wrapped its arms around Gerry protectively, burying its face in his hair.

“What did you dream about?” Its voice was surprisingly clear considering its face was pressed into Gerry’s head. It also sounded surprisingly angry.

“You sound like you want to fight it,” Gerry chuckled, returning the embrace. 

“I will.”

Gerry shook his head, a thin smile on his lips, “It’s okay. Just...the past. It...sometimes, it still clings to me.”

There was a long silence before Michael talked again, “I don’t...think I can fight that.” Its voice sounded small as it started playing with the tips of Gerry’s hair. “You can still call me if they come again,” it added after a moment.

“Thank you,” Gerry whispered, feeling like those words weren’t enough to describe how he felt, the warmth and gratitude and he buried his face in its chest, fighting tears he usually had no problem keeping down when he wasn’t still half-asleep. 

Michael didn’t say anything, but simply held him, hand running over his back in a calming motion. And Gerry did calm down, melted into the gentle touch and gave into the comforting feeling he wasn’t quite used to yet, was still afraid to embrace too openly, afraid it might just disappear again. 

Gerry was asleep again moments later and this time Michael made sure it wouldn’t surprise him too much when he awoke again.

Sometimes it wasn't the past but the future, which of course did not make it any easier for Michael to protect Gerry from it. It knew part of why Gerry spent so much time at the Institute was because he was thinking about how he can destroy it properly, on top of doing his usual work, which also made him wonder about other things that should be destroyed. It robbed him of sleep about as frequently as the past, and it seemed to be getting worse.

Michael hadn’t expected the door to open to the Institute, because it was late and Gerry should long be at home, especially considering how tired he had looked when it had visited him in the morning. Gerry’s office was too silent. Sure, he would often work in silence, but usually there was always  _ something _ . Tapping fingers, a shaking leg, a low murmur that might or might not be words, Michael could never figure that out. 

Today - tonight - all the sound in the office was shallow breathing, barely audible. Gerry was sleeping, slumped over on the desk, dangerously close to the edge of it. It looked very uncomfortable, and considering how much Gerry struggled every night to find a comfortable position before he could even consider trying to fall asleep, that was rather alarming. Michael approached him, not bothering to be silent. Gerry didn’t even stir. 

His head was resting on one of his arms, face obscured by his hair. Michael gently brushed it away, tugged it behind his ear. Gerry looked exhausted, even in sleep. Michael really did wish it could change that. It ran its fingers over his face carefully, trying to determine whether it should wake him or not. It probably would be better. Gerry would be disoriented if he awoke in his bed in the morning. Or later, rather. 

“Gerry.” It felt him stir as it continued to touch his face, but he was fighting consciousness. Michael gently squeezed his shoulder, “Gerry, wake up,” it tried again, a little louder.

Gerry’s eyes fluttered open, eyes glazed with lingering sleep as he slowly straightened up and looked around, confused. Michael was smoothing the hair on the side that had just been pressed against the desk, “Gerry, you fell asleep at work.”

“Michael…,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry, I-were you waiting for me? I just...I was thinking of- and then I had to take some statements but I couldn’t stop and-” Gerry sighed, rubbing his face.

Michael pet his cheek, “It’s alright. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“Yeah….yeah.” Gerry got up, a little too quickly for his drowsy state, but Michael was there to steady him, arm around his waist. Gerry’s mumbled ‘sorry’ dissolved into a yawn and he hid his face in its chest, cheeks dusted pink.

“I can carry you, if you’re too tired to walk,” it whispered, pressing a kiss to his head.

Gerry frowned, “‘m heavy.”

“You are no such thing.” 

Before Gerry could protest any further, Michael somehow managed to pick him up. Gerry didn’t really know how, and whether that was because he just was that tired or because Michael was Michael, but one moment he was about to say that he certainly was heavy for arms that thin and the next said arms were holding him against Michael’s chest bridal style with ease. 

Gerry’s hazy mind remembered that, while its arms were thin, they also weren’t human, so his argument had been weak. His blush deepened, and he was unsure if it was at the realisation that he had somehow forgotten Michael wasn’t human, or if it was the whole situation that was doing it. He buried his face in its chest, absolutely not having the nerves to think about that now. He was comfortable and tired, and that’s how much he was willing to think about anything right now.

Gerry only looked up from his position when Michael set him down on his bed. His boots were gone and Gerry curled up on the sheets. Michael made a noise of disapproval, and Gerry found himself under the bedsheets instead and sighed, rolling unto his back and blinking up at where Michael’s head was hovering. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, cupping his cheek. “You staying?”

Michael considered for a moment, before nodding and slipping under the covers. Gerry felt for its hand and squeezed it when he found it. “Sorry again.”

Michael shook its head. “You don’t have to apologise.” It laced their fingers together, thinking. Maybe there was  _ something _ it could do. It had shown Gerry the tunnels when he said he needed a better idea of the layout for his plans, but Michael couldn’t do much about it being on his mind and him being unable to openly think about it under the Watcher’s gaze. Or maybe it could. “What if I left a door at your office?”

Gerry’s eyes had already been falling close again and he struggled to open them. “Hm? You don’t need to come to my office if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t.” It put one hand on his cheek, “But I could leave one of my doors, so when it gets too much or you want to sort your thoughts, you can.”

“Maybe then I’d finally move forward with my plans,” he murmured, leaning into the touch.

Michael nodded, despite not liking that idea at all. Gerry’s eyes were closed again and it didn’t take long before he was asleep.

*

Gerry was unsure about using the door at first. Not because he didn’t trust it to let him out again - or maybe there still was a lingering alarm bell about that - but mostly because he knew it must look suspicious. Gerry had been expecting Elias to say something. He knew he could see. And he was convinced Elias knew he was planning something by now, if he hadn’t before. The fact that Gerry was being completely ignored by him put him on edge.

But he did need to sort his thoughts, and he did that best loudly. And writing along with his mumbling, which he couldn’t well do in the Institute, which he didn’t really feel he could do anywhere anymore. So it didn’t take him too long to give in and slip through the yellow door and into the hallway to use his break more efficiently.

It was slow-going, even with Michael’s help. And Gerry had the urge to be reckless again because he had no patience for this. It was getting worse. He was getting better at controlling his questions, which scared him. Like he had given yet another piece of himself to the Eye. 

Michael wasn’t actively helping him, but it also was helping him. It showed him the tunnels, which were much easier to cover with its doors. Sometimes it would join him in the hallway, and let Gerry bounce some ideas and worries off it. Sometimes it would even suggest something itself. All of that did help, but still, it was too slow for Gerry. The sleepless nights because of it might have become less, but the worries were still the same. Elias’ ignorance was just making it worse. Gerry still was thankful for the door.

*

As Michael started to spend less and less time at the Institute with Gerry, it started to spend more time in his apartment, even when Gerry wasn’t home. It was strange to come home to be greeted by somebody - or something, rather - that seemed to genuinely be happy to see him. But Gerry liked it. When a day passed at work without it stopping by, there was a high chance he’d be coming home to it waiting right at the door to pull him into a welcoming hug. Michael’s hugs always made the stress of the Institute slide right off Gerry for a moment, and he cherished them.

Still, he wondered what it even did on the days it seemingly spent at his place. “Don’t you get bored waiting for me?,” he asked one evening after they had pulled apart from the hug.

It shook its head. “But this apartment  _ is  _ boring, Gerry. No colours.”

Gerry wasn’t particularly offended. His apartments had stopped getting too much thought put into them a while ago. “I mean, I usually don’t bother getting too cosy...I’ve had to move a lot in the past.”

Michael frowned or pouted, or maybe both. Maybe neither. “Still. So many possibilities!” And Michael turned his hallway into apparently every possibility under the sun at once.

Gerry closed his eyes, already feeling the throbbing headache despite barely having spent time looking at the colours and shapes that seemed to overlap, “Ouch, yes, okay, but maybe not one that burns my eyes.”

Michael let out an exaggerated sigh, “Fine.” Gerry opened his eyes to his normal, boring apartment and sighed in relief. “What about flowers?,” Michael asked.

“What about flowers?" Gerry raised an eyebrow.

It ran its fingers through his hair. “Didn’t your office look better with them?”

It actually still did, because Gerry couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of the now wilted flowers. Michael hadn’t said anything about it yet, so Gerry wasn’t going to bring it up now. 

He was quite a bit more bothered by the implication that his living space was anywhere as bad as his working space. “I...guess? My apartment isn’t  _ that _ bad, Michael.”

Now it was definitely pouting. Gerry chuckled and leaned in to press their lips together for a moment. “If it makes you happy, we can get some flowers.”

Michael beamed at him and took his hands. "We could make it a date?"

Gerry blushed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been asked out on a date. And he certainly hadn’t expected it now. "Uh, Sure.”

“Great!” It bent down to kiss his nose. “Are you hungry?”

Gerry nodded, still somewhat surprised, as Michael lead him to the kitchen.

*

Gerry was busy that weekend, but he kept the next one free. The weather was nice, cloudy and not too warm, which meant the city was more crowded than Gerry would’ve liked, but it could have been worse. They spent most of the time strolling through the streets, looking at the shop windows without much interest, except for the couple times Michael changed some of them, enjoying the confusion of other people who happened to be looking. 

They did go into the flower shops they passed, taking their time looking around and debating what to get. Gerry didn’t care too much, but Michael seemed to be determined to get everything, so he felt like he had to do some damage control. Michael was still trying to change his mind when they were stepping outside one of the shops. Gerry decided to change the topic.

“I could go for a snack,” he said, which wasn’t strictly a lie. It was noon by now and he could definitely eat something.

Michael stopped mid-sentence and shrugged. “Lead the way somewhere you want to eat, then.”

Gerry didn’t really know where he wanted to go, but he walked towards the park and, little later, they were sitting outside a café. Michael had gotten something very colourful that looked like pure sugar and was having fun playing around with it. The sun had started to peek through the clouds, some stray rays of sunshine playing in its yellow hair, illuminating its freckles. 

It looked beautiful, even though Gerry found himself missing the usual movement. It was odd to look at it and see something that looked very much human. A very pretty human, but still not quite  _ Michael _ . 

Gerry took a sip from his own coffee watching it do the same from its drink. “Are you having fun?”

It looked at him and nodded with a smile. “We should do this again sometime.”

Gerry smiled and nodded, taking a bite off his sandwich and putting his hand on Michael’s, that had been resting on the table. If he focused hard enough, Gerry could see its actual hand, but it wasn’t worth the headache. This one, while looking very human, still didn’t really feel as it should, and Gerry gently traced the side of the hand with his thumb. Michael made a small, appreciative noise, before continuing drinking.

They picked up the flowers on their way back - and a vase, because Gerry still did not own one - and Michael looked incredibly satisfied when it set them up in Gerry’s apartment. Gerry did have to admit they looked rather nice, but he wasn’t sure if they were what was making his living room look homelier.

*

Gerry started spending more and more time in the hallways, and so had Michael. Planning was going smoothly and, as far as Michael was aware, so did the preparations, for now. Things were starting to take shape. Michael was a little disappointed that it only seemed to put Gerry more on edge. He had gradually become more absent-minded, spending a whole lot of time silently pacing until he remembered that he could do so less silently in the hallway. He did, at least, seem happier now that things were moving forward. 

"What are you going to do about Elias?," Michael mumbled, finishing the braid it had started when Gerry had sat down.

When Michael had joined him in the halway earlier, Gerry had been going over what the plan looked like so far and Michael had listened and watched him from its place, sitting on the carpet, as Gerry started to pace again when he got to some details that weren’t quite clear yet. When he sat down again, he looked satisfied with what he did have and Michael had started combing through his hair, going over what it had just been told. Gerry hadn’t mentioned Elias at all. Sure, most of the set up would happen in the tunnels, where, as far as they knew, he did not have much Sight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be trouble. 

"I don't know. It worries me that he hasn't said or done anything. He must suspect something by now…," he mumbled, looking at the notes in front of him, picking at his nail polish with a frown. 

Michael let go of his hair and looked at him. "I could distract him."

Gerry sighed and leaned against its side. "That would be quite the direct interference, don't you think?"

"I don’t have to do it directly.” It ran its knuckles over the side of Gerry’s face. “Also I don't like him. I'd personally annoy him without motivation, too." 

Gerry chuckled and turned his head to look ar it. "Is that why you bothered me? Because you didn't like me?"

"You were the Archivist." 

Gerry raised an eyebrow, "I still am."

"Not for long." Michael was grinning, but it’s voice had an edge to it Gerry couldn’t quite place. It definitely didn’t go with that smile.

Gerry nodded carefully, "If everything goes well."

"And if it doesn't, too." 

Michael wasn’t wrong, which was probably why it grimaced as it said it. Still, Gerry didn’t want to think about that. He was aware of the consequences, but he didn’t actually  _ know _ any details, and sometimes it was hard not to try and Know because the vagueness was stressing him out. So he’d rather not think about it when he was still in the middle of setting things up. He’d deal with it when it happened. Well, if he survived.

Gerry sighed and turned around to face Michael. "Don't say that.”

Michael returned his gaze silently, expression a mess as always. Still, Gerry thought it seemed tense, upset even. He still hadn’t quite figured out where his vague interpretations of Michael’s disposition came from, but he seemed to usually be somewhat right. Gerry would love to know what he could say to make it better, but he wasn’t exactly sure if there was anything like that. 

There was nothing that’d make Gerry stop trying to finally destroy the Institute, and nothing that could guarantee he’d be fine if he succeeded. Or even what would happen to him if he failed. It was quite pointless to tell comforting lies to the Throat of Deceit, so Gerry decided to instead close the gap between them and kiss it.

It seemed surprised, for a moment - which was always an exciting achievement for Gerry - before it returned the kiss. Gerry moved closer, one hand on its knee the other coming to cup its cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Michael pulled away, just enough to mumble, “Didn’t you say you were really busy today?”

Gerry could hear the grin in its voice and he chuckled, “I’ve been in here so long, who knows if it even still is ‘today’ outside?” He also couldn’t even remember saying that, but he didn’t want to think about that. He knew he’s been saying those words a lot, probably too much.

He closed the gap again, pressing his lips to his lower lip before kissing a trail down its chin. It leaned its head back, a bit too far to look comfortable. Still, Gerry didn’t question the invitation, following the line of its throat with his lips. Gerry was used to the consistency of its skin by now, and yet it always surprised him how off it felt under his lips. It was still undoubtedly not skin he was now kissing, and there were still warnings going off in his head about it. He had become an expert at ignoring them. Not that they held out compared to his genuine curiosity about finding out more about this not-skin that yet was so very close to skin.

“Michael?,” he breathed against its neck, and it shivered. At least for it, it seemed to work similar enough to human skin. “If I tried to give you a hickey, would it work?”

Gerry had been wondering about that for a while, but hadn’t managed to get himself to ask. And trying without asking if that would even be okay didn’t feel right. Being aware that he might meet his end soon didn’t only have negative aspects, he guessed. It didn’t keep him from blushing at his own question, though.

“There’s only one way to find out.” It was audibly grinning and it made him wonder if it could somehow see his blush even from an angle that should have made that impossible. Gerry still sometimes had to remind himself that such words did not mean much for Michael. 

He chuckled, “If you say so.”

It gasped as Gerry began kissing its neck again, lips parted, tongue flicking over sensitive not-quite-skin as Gerry's hand moved from its knee and up its thigh. The noise it made when Gerry started sucking on the soft spot under its ear wasn’t quite a moan, but that was because none of the noises it made sounded like anything that existed, really, often sounding like sounds that shouldn’t be possible to make for anything. They didn’t make Gerry freeze anymore. He liked them, even, and he cupped the back of its head with his free hand, keeping it from leaning back into nothing, since the wall behind it had disappeared. 

Michael didn’t even know what to focus on, the hot mouth against its neck, the gentle scrape of Gerry’s nails against its scalp or the fingers that were drawing maddening patterns on the inside of its thigh, touch too light, teasing. Its fingers were burying into the carpet behind it, the other hand finally giving into the urge of pulling Gerry closer, fingers spreading out on his bare lower back where the crop top didn’t reach. 

Michael felt the noise Gerry made in his throat more than it heard it, felt his eyelashes flutter against its skin and it sighed and licked its lips before speaking, “Do you want to get out?”

Gerry let go of its neck, teeth scraping the reddened skin as he did, making Michael breathe in sharply. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot that certainly looked like it might bruise, which didn’t mean a whole lot with Michael. He’d have to see what would happen.

“I’m fine in here if you are…,” he mumbled, kissing a trail up to Michael’s ear.

Michael wasn’t sure how fine Gerry could be after spending so long in the hallway, but Gerry had never seemed awfully bothered by it. If anything, he’d just gotten more ambivalent to it as time passed, rather than it slowly cracking down on his mind as it did with everybody else that found their way into it. 

Of course, Michael hadn’t actively tried to make Gerry lose his mind. If anything, Gerry was doing a good job at making it consider the possibility of losing its mind, warm tongue outlining its ear, fingers squeezing its thigh.

Michael let go of the carpet, burying its hand in Gerry’s hair instead and moving its head to bring their lips together once more. It lowered itself unto its back, bringing Gerry down with it, hand moving to wrap around his hips. By the time its head hit the floor, it wasn’t carpet anymore, but they were too occupied with each other to notice.

*

The weekend had been busy and when Gerry finally came home from the last of his errands Sunday night, he had pretty much decided he’d take the rest of time off to relax. The week would be stressful and, if everything worked out, end in explosion, so he decided he needed some peace before all of that.

He had just gotten comfortable in bed after a shower and had picked up the book he had started reading months ago when he heard the static that always accompanied Michael’s doors. He didn’t bother to look up. Gerry was rather comfortable and who knew what Michael wanted. It might not require Gerry to move from his spot.

He felt the mattress dip and the source of the buzzing static approach. Michael buried its face in Gerry’s neck, rubbing its nose against it as it put one arm around Gerry. Gerry chuckled a little, bringing one hand up to gently scratch Michael’s head. It made a noise akin to a purr, but not really like any noise a living thing would make.

"I swear you're also part cat," he mumbled, amused.

Michael shifted to look up at him. Gerry felt its fingers in his hair, scraping along his scalp, despite Michael being in a rather impossible position to reach there. "But you like when I do that to you, too, right?"

Gerry leaned into the touch, humming, "I guess that's right. I don’t sound like some echo-y mechanical cat as a reaction, though."

Michael thought about that for a moment, "Do you like cats?"

"I do,” Gerry said, adding, “I don’t mind. It’s cute.” He brushed some curls behind Michael’s ear.

Michael, as usual, seemed mildly conflicted about being called ‘cute’. Gerry had yet to figure out if it was the nature of getting complimented in general, or if it cared about keeping up a very non-cute image. Michael didn’t really give any usable answer when he had asked, but it didn’t tell him to stop. 

Gerry took a moment to take it in, running fingers through curls that seemed determined to wrap themselves around his fingers. Michael looked at it always did, and also somewhat new, as usual. The hickey from now nearly two weeks ago was still there and still looked exactly as it had then. They hadn’t seen each other too much since, and Gerry shook his head, disbelieving.

"You know, this should have healed by now." 

Michael turned around to look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "I like it. Why would I let it go?" 

Gerry laughed, “That’s not how it usually works.”

Michael shrugged and buried its face back in Gerry’s neck. “‘m not usual.”

“You really aren’t,” he mused, turning back to his book.

They fell into silence, Gerry continuing to run his fingers through Michael’s hair, only pulling away to turn the page. Sometimes, Michael’s hair would simply linger as he did rather than untangle itself from his fingers. Pulling wasn’t an issue when your body didn’t follow any rules, Gerry guessed.

Michael didn’t like the silence. It usually didn’t mind, but it had come to see Gerry before what might be his last week started, and the silence just felt heavy to it. Physically. But it didn’t want to talk about it, not really, and it knew that Gerry didn’t want to, either. There wasn’t much left to talk about when it came to that topic, anyways. But still, silence didn’t seem to be working for it, either.

"Can you read out loud?," it decided to ask, and Gerry couldn’t tell if its voice was that muffled by his neck, or if it was speaking very softly.

Gerry’s fingers paused. "You won’t understand what’s going on, I’m in the middle of the book.”

Michael buried its face further in his neck, breathing him in. “Just want to listen to your voice.” 

It didn’t see Gerry’s face turning slightly pink, but it did hear the awkward surprise in his tone when he said, “Oh...okay, then,” before clearing his throat and starting to read.

Michael listened, not to the words, but to the voice, feeling the vibration of it against its face. Its fingers started tracing lazy patterns on Gerry’s side as Gerry started to play with its hair again.

*

Gerry’s ears were ringing and he was burning. He knew for a fact that he wasn’t physically burning, that he was far away enough from the explosion that his ears shouldn’t be feeling like they will blow up every morning, that his eyes shouldn’t be tearing up, his head not hurting, his body shaking, swaying, falling, as the world went dark around him, an angry red of flames and pain, but not from outside but from within himself. The outside fell away and Gerry didn’t know if he screamed, but his mind certainly did.

Michael caught him before he hit the floor, but after his eyes screwed shut, and it felt a raising panic at the thought that it might have been too late to see those pretty brown eyes one last time. But Gerry was still breathing - heavily - his body shaking as he seemed to be burning up, skin violent red and blistering, especially where the tattoos were. Michael pulled him closer despite the heat, carrying him through its door into the hallway.

It didn’t get better inside the hallway, but Michael still preferred it to outside, where the Eye could watch Gerry pay the price. Michael didn’t even know if it  _ would _ get better, or if Gerry would simply end up burning to ashes like the Institute was sure to do. They had made sure of it. Gerry had made sure of it.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable, his face a mask of pain, lips pressed together tightly, just like his eyes. Michael couldn’t tell if he was crying or if the tears had dried from earlier.

“Gerry?,” it tried, gently brushing some stray strands out of Gerry’s tense face. Its voice sounded strange even to its own ears. Afraid.

It wasn’t surprised when he didn’t react, but it still felt heavier, weighted down. It was fairly sure Gerry couldn’t hear or feel it. Wherever he was, Michael couldn’t follow or help. It could only keep his body safe and away from the Watcher.

Michael didn’t like cold much, and it wasn’t sure Gerry would be able to tell the difference, but it still made the hallway cool down. It laid Gerry on a couch that looked suspiciously like the one in Gerry’s apartment, but Michael didn’t notice. It was busy bringing the temperature down, watching Gerry attentively, watching for any sign of change. It barely noticed the lingering agony of its unbecoming that always resurfaced when it found itself in very cold places. 

Gerry looked unchanged, and Michael made it colder, wrapping its hand around one of Gerry’s, carefully avoiding the blistering knuckles. It was more like making Gerry’s hand rest in its own. It watched, and waited, fighting the urge to touch him too much because it looked like that might feel painful. He looked limp and tense at the same time, breathing heavy, sometimes shallow, sometimes seemingly stopping and Michael had to lean closer, counting the seconds before Gerry started breathing again. Part of it expected it to not start again every time.

Michael didn’t know how long it stood watching over Gerry, but it felt like a lifetime, if Michael had any concept of what that felt like. It was long enough to get hungry, though that might have happened quicker because it was forcefully keeping the temperature down for so long. Consistency was difficult to maintain. Michael considered for a long time what to do. Small ice crystals were building in the tips of Gerry’s hair, but he was otherwise unchanged, skin still hot. Which at least meant that he wasn’t getting worse. 

Michael didn’t know if it had helped with that, or if that was just how it was, but it was nervous about leaving Gerry to find some food. If it waited much longer it would probably accidentally kill whoever opened the door next. Michael had gotten really good at finding the perfect moment to release his snacks again, but it also usually didn’t wait this long, didn’t get this hungry before it ate. Michael sighed, frustrated, and bent down to press a light kiss on Gerry’s dry forehead. He should probably get him some water. Michael wasn’t sure. It looked at him for another long moment before it turned around and left through a door that hadn’t been there before.

Michael wasn’t horribly picky and skipped a lot of its usual play when it fed. It didn’t really care about the taste. It just wanted to get back to Gerry as quickly as it could. 

Which it did, and it did bring some cold water - which ended up starting to turn to ice when it stepped up to Gerry, who still wasn’t moving - and some cloth, because it had seen, somewhere, that it might help with heat, with the burns. It let the temperature thaw a little. Gerry didn’t look any more uncomfortable and it started gently running the wet cloth over his skin, half-expecting it to start melting or burning. It didn’t, but it did dry out pretty much the moment it came in contact with the skin. It was fine. Michael had nothing if not time, and even though Gerry didn’t show any sign of even feeling it, it liked to at least pretend like it was helping. It at least couldn’t see how it could be making it worse. 

It was nervous when it came to the more raw skin, the peeling skin, the remnants of the blisters. It took extra care, alert to any possible sign of discomfort Gerry might show. It was nearly disappointed when he didn’t show any.

The wounds were healing very slowly, as far as Michal could tell, but they were healing, which was exciting. But Gerry’s eyes still remained closed, even as his breathing became less erratic. So it waited.

Michael was starting to believe it wasn’t going to see Gerry’s eyes again. He was still breathing, and he seemed to slowly be cooling down, but he still didn’t move, didn’t react in any way. The hallway was melting around them, as Michael waited. It couldn’t cry itself or it might miss something, so the walls and ceiling did in its place.

*

After so much time of nothing changing, Michael noticed the small twitch of his finger, when it happened. It nearly lost shape in surprise, but it kept itself together and bent down.

“Gerry?” Michael was sure it had seen the twitching, but Gerry was unmoving again. It was trying very hard not to panic, gently running its fingers over his face.

It didn’t know how long it stood like that before Gerry’s face moved. It looked a lot like when he was trying to wake up from a bad dream without succeeding. “Gerry!”

He finally managed to force his eyes open, and after some further struggle, he managed to part his dry lips. His eyes were tearing up and he couldn’t see much, but he heard Michael’s voice and he wanted to answer. His attempt ended in violent coughing, his throat too dry and raw.

“Careful,” Michael said and it couldn’t quite keep its voice together, words tumbling from its lips near-soundlessly as he helped Gerry into a sitting position. “Here.” It held a glass of water to his lips and Gerry drank eagerly, trying to bring his hands up to hold it. He hissed at the attempt, limbs stiff and skin tight over freshly healing burns. Michael put its hand on Gerry’s shoulder and carefully tipped the glass himself until Gerry had drained it.

He was panting by the time he finished drinking, and he blinked the tears out of his eyes. He assumed he was in the hallway. It was more the feeling that he recognised, since what he was seeing was out of focus and blurry, no matter how much he blinked. He carefully tried to move his fingers. It hurt, but if he didn’t try too quickly it wasn’t impossible.

“Michael?” He moved his head to look at it and flinched at the cracking noise his neck made. 

He had no idea how long he’d been out, but he felt like he’d been holding the same, tense position for far too long. It was blurry, too, which it often was. But there was a different quality to the lack of focus, the fact that its edges were blending in with the blurry background. Gerry rubbed his eyes. 

“What happened? Did it work?” Things still looked blurry after Gerry pulled his hands away. Even his own hands did. He could vaguely make out his red knuckles. Gerry wasn’t sure if it was his blurry vision, or if his tattoos had smudged, in some places completely disappeared. 

“The Institute was ashes last time I went out.”

Gerry sighed in relief and he would have laid back down again if it hadn’t been for Michael’s hand on his back. “When was that? How long was I out?”

Michael’s voice still had a shaky quality to it when it spoke. “You burned, too. I don’t know for how long...Longer than the building. I kept you in here...just in case.”

“Thank you.” Gerry could feel a glaring emptiness at the margin of his conscience but he did not want to think about that now. Or about the fact that he couldn’t see properly. “Can you help me up?”

Michael wasn’t sure if it was in a state to help, considering it was barely keeping itself together. It wanted to hug him, but it would hurt. It wanted to cry and laugh but it felt like if it started it wouldn’t be able to stop. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Gerry carefully shook his head. “No, but I’d like to try to move. I feel like I’ve been clenching my jaw for way too long, but with my whole body.”

Michael helped him up, and Gerry leaned against it for support. His legs were unsteady and he felt a hot pain in his joints. Or on them. It was difficult to tell. He kept blinking, but nothing came into focus.

“Are you alright?” Michael sounded somewhat scattered, but when Gerry looked up he couldn’t exactly see its expression. Not that it would have helped. He touched its arm carefully in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

“Overall? In pain, but it’s not unbearable, I guess,” he mumbled.

Michael gently ran its fingers through his hair. “No, I mean...you keep blinking. Is something in your eye? It shouldn’t be, we’re still inside-”

“No, I don’t think there is. I think it just...fucked with my eyes. Which...I guess makes sense. Tattoos wouldn’t have been much of a sacrifice.” Though it had been more than just visuals. Gerry felt the loss of knowledge and it hurt. “Can you show me? The Institute?” Part of him hoped it might get better outside. Maybe he had spent too much time in the hallway.

Michael seemed to understand and nodded, opening a door for them.

Gerry couldn’t see any better outside, but he did feel better. He took a deep breath of static-free air and his head felt a little bit less like it was stuffed with cotton. It was dark outside, but Gerry still knew things were more indistinguishable than they should be. The streetlights looked all smudged and painful to look at. 

Still, he didn’t need perfect sight to see that the Institute was, indeed, gone. Gerry hadn’t expected to feel anything, really, and certainly not the crushing loss. Gerry had tried to get through a bulk of the statements, tried to find anything relating to possible ritual attempts, but he knew he had probably missed most. Now it was gone. For the better, but Gerry still felt that emptiness he had been vaguely aware of since he started coming to much more strongly. It was  _ gone _ . And so was his ability to Know anything. Which was good. It still upset him.

Michael held him a little tighter. Gerry had gone very still. It was terrifying. “Home?”

Gerry only nodded and let Michael lead him through another door.

*

Gerry drank more water when he was home and soon his throat didn’t feel quite as much like sandpaper when he spoke. He tried to eat, but didn’t manage much with how sore he felt. His apartment looked strange out of focus, but navigating it was was mostly muscle memory. Everything else Michael helped with. It didn’t say much, which was strange, but Gerry wasn’t sure whether he was up for talking much right now, so he let it slide.

He felt a lot better after a cold shower. He had tried to check his reflection, but it had looked about as blurry as everything else, so he had no conclusive picture of how bad the damage was besides what he could feel himself. He did manage to see that the worst burns seemed to be the tattoos, many of the spots looking just red, some having some suggestion of black still. It was odd to think they were mostly gone. Gerry had had them for a very long time. 

“Don’t you have something to put on the burns? They still look so red…” Michael mumbled, following the burnt line of Gerry’s spine without actually touching the mess of red and remnants of black ink. 

Gerry hadn’t bothered with clothes, pretty much falling - and Michael wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t see the edge of the bed right or intentional - face first into the mattress after his shower. Considering the sharp intake of breath that followed, Michael assumed it had probably not been intentional.

Gerry moved his head to the side to speak. “I should have something. Burns have always been a bit too common for me to not be prepared.”

Michael brushed his hair out of his face. “Where?”

“First aid kit.”

Gerry felt the mattress shift as it got up from it. His eyes were closed. It was less irritating than constantly having to strain to get things to focus. It never worked anyways. He would have to get that checked out as soon as possible. He only hoped it wouldn’t get worse. He sighed. His knees were starting to hurt.

Michael was back more quickly than it should have. Gerry knew what was coming, but he still tensed when he felt the cool cream against his skin. It had already started to get hot again despite the shower.

It pulled its hand away again, unsure. “Is this painful?”

“Just cold.” Gerry sighed, “Actually feels nice, kind of. It was so cold in the hallway I didn’t really notice how badly it burns...”

Michael still hesitated a moment before going back to carefully spread the cream unto the burns. It didn’t understand how they could still make it feel this upset after it had spent so much time staring at them, waiting for them to get worse and take Gerry away from it. It spoke, more to distract itself from the sight than anything else, “I kept it cold. I was afraid it’d...spread.”

“Thank you,” Gerry whispered. “For everything.”

Michael shook its head. It hadn’t done much. It did not feel like it should be thanked. They fell back into silence as Michael continued to cover the burns with the cream.

Michael insisted on putting some cream on the other worse burns too, despite Gerry insisting that at least the knuckles would just end up on the bed sheets. He wasn’t going to wear gloves to bed. He would’ve still rather not worn anything to bed, but it would have been a waste of effort if he didn’t at least put on a shirt.

“You’ve been very silent.” Gerry finally said when they had found a way to lie in bed without Gerry being in too much pain. 

Michael had half-heartedly offered to leave him on his own for tonight, but Gerry didn’t want to. So he ended up lying on his side, half-hugging Michael, his other arm above his head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that angle for very long, but it was better than nothing for now. Michael felt cool under his fingers. Gerry assumed that was probably on purpose. He shuffled a little closer. 

The tips of his fingers could feel the some stray strands of hair stuck to Michael’s shirt and he wondered how much of the cream was still on his fingers, if it would be fine to put his hand in its hair again. Gerry missed that. It had been a while, if he read the date on his phone correctly. Over a month.

Michael felt strangely still against him and Gerry wasn’t sure if his memory was confusing him or if he was right with thinking so. It certainly was very quiet, still.

“You’ve been silent,” he decided to state, as neutral as he could. He was curious, maybe somewhat worried, but did not want Michael to feel like it had to say anything. 

The silence that followed stretched on for so long Gerry was about to accept that it did not want to talk about it before it spoke up, “I didn’t...think you’d wake up again.” It sounded pained and Gerry felt it tense, like it always did when conversation became too genuine.

“Oh.” It was all Gerry managed, unsure what to say to that. Michael had sounded all over the place when he woke up, but thinking back to it Gerry was fairly sure it had sounded afraid first and foremost. Gerry didn’t even know it could feel fear like that. His heart clenched. “I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“It wasn’t- well, it actually was. Nevermind.” The chuckle that followed was a little dry, but the tension seemed to melt a little and Gerry gave a tentative smile.

He pressed his lips to his forehead, hand coming up to smoothe its hair. “I know,” he mumbled against its skin. “Thank you for waiting for me to wake up.”

Michael nodded slowly, moving to lean its forehead against Gerry’s chest, where his heart was still beating steadily. Which was what mattered. Michael had to remind itself of that. For now, that was all that really mattered. It sighed, closing its eyes.

Michael couldn’t calm down. There were too many thoughts and emotions he couldn’t really place, an utter mess with one coming back again and again as if to taunt it.  _ What now?  _ They had never talked about what would follow the destruction of the Institute. It would have been pointless to make plans if Gerry ended up dead. It would have just been painful hopes.

But now Gerry wasn’t dead, and he didn’t seem like he might die soon, as far as Michael could tell. He was free from the Institute, free from pretty much everything that had been weighing him down before. It was all too much, too many options. And Michael wasn’t sure it liked the most likely one of the bunch it could come up with.

Gerry sounded like he was drifting off to sleep, but he was still awake. Michael didn’t necessarily want to disturb him, but it felt like it might explode if it didn’t ask soon. Maybe even literally.

“What are you going to do now?” Michael whispered.

Gerry shrugged, mumbling, “There’s always books to burn.”

Michael was a little surprised at the quick answer. It wondered if Gerry was somehow missing that this was the opportunity for him to escape, if he wanted to. Well, as much as one could ever escape. 

“This would probably be your chance to turn your back on all of this,” it said, just in case Gerry was unaware. Gerry deserved to know and escape, if he wanted to.

Gerry pondered for a moment. He hadn’t really considered that too strongly. Escaping had never worked before and, while he could see why now might be a good time, part of him was sure it wouldn’t work again. There was something in Michael’s tone, though, that made him stop and consider.

“Wouldn’t that mean turning my back on you, too?” He raked his fingers through Michael’s hair.

Michael bit its lip. Gerry had always been too good at guessing what it meant to say. “Probably.”

It froze as it said that. It was strange to let something escape it had been keeping inside for so long, something that felt like a wound bound to happen if it let it out. Michael had had too much time to think about itself, about Gerry, about them as it waited and it couldn’t keep that thought to itself anymore.

Gerry frowned, put off by how still it went again. Even its hair was barely twitching. The air felt heavy around them, its static did. Gerry looked down at its head. “I don’t want to do that.”

Michael shifted a little to look up at his face. “Are you sure?”

There was a crushing amount of doubt in those three words alone and Gerry could nearly physically feel it. It wasn’t something he ever thought to hear from Michael. “You don’t believe I love you, do you?”

It hurt to hear those words, and Michael wasn’t even sure if they were true. Michael didn’t know what to believe. It only knew it had come to a conclusion it didn’t manage to shake. “I think you’d be happier with another human.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but as much as it dared to voice. Michael wanted Gerry to be safe, and safe wasn’t an option if he kept associating with it and things like it.

“I don’t.”

Michael frowned, irritated by Gerry’s quick comeback. It wasn’t sure whether it understood. “I’m a monster,” it tried.

Gerry pressed a kiss to its head. “I know, but I didn’t let that stop me.”

“I’m just- if you want to...let...this part of your life go. I’d...understand.” Michael was speaking through clenched teeth, unsure if it felt more frustrated about the fact that it could barely say what it meant to say, which usually didn’t bother it much, or if Gerry’s instant rebuttal was the source of its frustration. He sounded so  _ sure _ . How could he sound so sure?

He sighed, pulling Michael a little closer, resting his hand on its back. “Even if I wanted to let that part go, I’d take you with me.” 

“Gerry…” There was too much in that one name to unpack, but Gerry got the distinct impression he wasn’t really getting through to it.

He tried again. “Michael, I’m being honest. I know I’ve been kind of distracted and I’m probably not very good at this in the first place, but I do love you. And even if I could turn my back on all of the supernatural shit - which I can’t, I tried plenty of times before - I would never consider that including you.” Gerry ran his hand over its arm, taking its hand. “I don’t want to go back to a life without you. I  _ like _ how it’s with you. It’s better. I’m happy. And...maybe now, that I’m not busy trying to blow up a building all the time I’ll find some way to show you that. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to, yet.” 

Gerry sighed, unhappy with how he was unable to really translate what he wanted to say. He buried his nose in its hair and squeezed its hand, biting back a hiss. Bending his fingers was really not a good idea.

Michael shook its head. “It’s okay. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” At least it didn’t think so. It wasn’t the most pressing worry, it was fairly sure. “I just...I thought you might be...tired. And wanted to...try something normal.” It tugged its head under his chin, wanting to his him close, but not wanting to hurt him. It pressed a kiss to his clavicle instead.

Gerry chuckled a little, partly because its hair was tickling his chin. “You should know I don’t do normal, love.”

Michael blushed, mumbling, “I guess you don’t.”

There was a moment of silence, but Gerry still disliked how heavy it still felt. He brought his hand back to its back, whispering, “You know what we should do first and foremost, though?”

“Hm?” Michael nearly sounded sleepy, except Gerry knew, of course, that it didn’t sleep. Though he guessed it did exhaust itself with the conversation.

“I need a break. A holiday. Just...time to recover and relax. Before I get back to it. I haven’t had a proper holiday in...probably ever.” He sighed, trying to keep his tone light, half-joking.

Michael shifted to look at him. “You want me to come with you?”

Gerry raised an eyebrow, pressing their lips together for a moment. “I did say we, didn’t I?”

This time Gerry saw it blush. “Just...wanted to make sure.” Michael smiled, resting its forehead against his. “That sounds lovely.”

“It does,” Gerry breathed out, returning the smile.

**Author's Note:**

> *insert fluffy holiday retreat her I'm low key tempted to write*
> 
> I'm sorry if this was a little messy, I think it could have probably done with another editing round or 2...I hope it wasn't unbearable/made reading unenjoyable (is...that a word?).


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